A Life Day Carol
by FREAKSHOW1
Summary: Jacen Solo detests the holiday of Life Day. Can three Force Ghosts convince him otherwise and save his soul? An adaptation of the beloved novel by Charles Dickens.
1. Cheer and Loathing

Nelani was dead: to begin with. About that, there is no doubt whatsoever. The register acknowledging her death had been sign by the Grand Master, the Alliance liason, and the chief mourner. Jacen signed it, and his name was good as credits, for anything he put his hand to. Young Nelani was dead as a Tatooine desert.

Mind you! I don't mean to say that I know anything about how there is anything particularly dead about a Tatooine desert. Myself, I would have been inclined to think a Korriban desert to be the deadest piece of landscape, so far as they go. But the wisdom of the Jedi is in their words, or so I'm told, and my plain hands shall not disturb them, or the galaxy's done for. So you might indulge me if I repeat, quite humbly, that Nelani was dead as a Tatooine desert.

Jacen knew she was dead? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise? Jacen and Nelani had been collegues for I don't know how many years. That, and it was by his own saber that she met her end. And even he was not so dreadfully cut up by the unfortunate event, but he was a cold man of logic on the very day of her memorial, and solemnised it with an undoubted assurance that he had been correct.

The mention of Nelani's memorial brings me back to where I started. There is no dount that Nelani was dead. This should be distinctly understood, or nothing at all can come from the story I am to relate to you. If we were not perfectly convinced that Luke's Father had died before the movies began, than there would be in other crispy, middle aged gentlmen, rashly turning up in a breezy spot--say Cloud City's Carbon Freeze Facility for instance--literally to astonish his son's weak mind.

Jacen never picked up Young Nelani's body. There it lay, years afterwards, at the bottom of the mindshaft: for Lumiya was quite otherwise occupied. Jacen gave this nary a thought, for it was all the same to him.

Oh, but he was tight-handed in the library, Jacen! A squeezing, clutching, covetous glutton for knowledge. Cold and rational as a computer. The chill within him froze his old features, nipped his concience, shriveled his compassion, made his eyes yellow, his lips thin, and spoke shrewdly in his soothing voice. He carried his own cold with him, and didn't thaw it one degree at Life Day.

External dark and light had little influence on Jacen, light failed to lead, and darkness failed to blind him. No wind was more bitter than he, and no rain was less open to reason or entreaty.

Nobody stopped him in the halls of the Temple and asked "Jacen, how are you? When will you come see me?" The destitute never begged him for a trifle, children never asked the time, no sentient, in all their life, asked direction to or from a place of Jacen. Why, even the Miraluka appeared to know him, wagging their fingers and chiding, "No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master!"

But what did Jacen care? It was what he liked. For it was that very...

**Ok, you know what? They don't pay me enough to talk like this. Dickensien is hard enough to listen too, much less speak and write. From know on, I'll speak English, if you please.**

Now, where was I? Oh, right. Jacen was a complete asshole. If you understood the paragraphs before this, then I think you've gotten that particular point. And if you didn't before, I've made it quite clear by now. Moving on.

Once upon a time--of all the good days of the year, on the eve of Life Day--old Jacen sat by the light of the glow panel, pouring over some archaic text in the vain hopes of making himself sound less pathetic than he was. It was chilly as Ossus ever got, since it has two suns. But his time with Vergere, that evil bird, had rendered him superhumanly immune to pain and logical paradoxes, so he was not bothered by the cold. The temple chronos had just sounded sixteen hundred, but it was already dark.

The door of his room in the temple was open so he might keep an eye on his apprentice, sullenly sorting through datapads filled with things that were probably forbidden to Jacen. Not that Jacen cared, of course. If it came down to it, he could always erase the little twit's memories. Again.

He was interupted in him musings by a chime from the door. Standing, he made his way to the door, and opened it calmly. His uncle stood there, grinning like the senile old fool he was.

"Hello, Jacen, oh nephew whom I trust with my life and who I know would never ever betray me," Luke said cheerily. Jacen cringed at all the happy.

"Yes, what do you want?" He asked tersly. "I'm busy. Three texts to translate that I just got from Lumi...erm, I mean...I have to...wax...my turtle...yeah." He winced, sure that his secret was out.

But Luke simply smiled even wider, oblivious to the fact that his favored student was now an evil bastard. Oh well, nobody ever said he had to be bright. "So then you'll be coming to our Life Day party tomorrow?"

Jacen raised an eyebrow, "Uncle Luke, we're humans. Not Wookiees. We don't celebrate Life Day."

Luke gasped, "But Jacen, beloved pupil, you simply must! 'Tis the Life Day season!"

Jacen slapped a hand to his forehead and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Ben!" he called testily, "get in here!" His cousin raced faithfully into the room. Jacen picked up a small rubber newspaper from the table next to the door. Luke and Ben's ears perked up, and they followed the small toy with their eyes. "Fetch." he said simply, tossing it into the hall. The two Skywalkers bounded after it eagerly, and Jacen took the opportunity to slam the door behind them. "Maybe now I can get some peace and quiet while I work."

Two hours later, there was another chime. Irritably pushing away from his desk, the young man answered it yet again.

This time, it was his once-loved twin sister, Jaina. Zekk, he noticed, was purring softly from the floor as he did the figure-eight around her legs. He could see Jagged Fel staring at Jaina from behind a conveniently placed potted plant, and Kyp Durron was hanging from the ceiling of the corridor, snapping pirctues every few seconds.

"Jacen," she siad flatly. Jaina seemed to not like him nowadays, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. After all, all he did was trick her into commiting a few war crimes. Not anything bad. "Uncle Luke and Aunt Mara asked me to remind you that the Life Day party is in the meeting chamber tomorrow at eighteen hundred. Bring cake." At this, she rolled her eyes. It seemed she had also run afoul of their family's senseless holiday cheer. "Let's go boys." With that, she and her three stalkers departed.

Jacen shut the door, making sure to turn off the chime. The ancient texts could wait. He was tired, damnit!

He'd been in bed not four hours when he heard a rattling from above him. Trying his best to ignore it, he kept his eyes shut, trying to toss and turn himself back to sleep.

"_Jacen...Jacen Solo..."_

He groaned, "Go away, Uncle Luke. I'll come to the damn Life Day party, just let me get some--ow!" He gave a cry of suprise as a whole stack fo datapads flew at his head. In his shock, he opened his eyes, and saw the one sight he'd never expected to see.

Nelani Dinn was standing over him, blue energy swirling around her spectral form. The hole in her chest was still there, plain as day. She was lightly tapping her foot, hands on her hips.

"Good, you're up." He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, "No, none of that. Time is money, so listen up dumbass: Tonight, you'll be visited by three Force Ghosts. Apparently somebody wants to save your soul. Why, I can't imagine." She rolled her semi-transparent eyes, "Figures. So, go with them, and try not to make too much of an ass out of yourself. Goodbye Jacen. I'll see you in Heeeeeeeeeeeell..." And so, the ghost of Nelani Dinn faded away, but not before smacking him once for good measure.

Jacen sat there, baffled, 'WTF' written all over his face. That is, it was until he glanced in a mirror and rubbed it off, uttering a few unpleasent oaths about Nelani's parents. He'd just about gotten it all off, ruining his top sheet in the process, when a strong wind blew through his bedroom, a flash of light filing the chamber...


	2. Night of the Still Dead Dead

**A/N: And it's back, after a long hiatus! This was pushed to the wayside forever, but I just finished reading the Darth Bane novel, so I was inspired to pick this back up. I debated for a long time over who Life Day Past should be, the choices ranging from Yoda to Darth Nihilus to Davik Kang. In the end, though, I'm happy with my choice. Of course, I still have no clue who Present and Future should be...**

**And so I do proudly give you part two, in which our hero makes an ass of himself yet again!**

**I Disclaim.**

The flash momentarily blinded Jacen, but he heard an agonizing scream, and when he could see again, there was someone standing in the middle of the room.

She was human, very beautiful, with full brown hair and intense green eyes. On her forehead was a circular black tattoo, and the black amored bodysuit she wore did nothing to hide her figure. Like Nelani had been, this woman was slightly transparent.

She looked at him, and her face fell, eyes wide, the color drained from her face.

"No!" she gasped, "No, Kiel!" She looked toward the ceiling, "Kiel, I take it back! Send me to hell, anything but this!" She paused, and looked around as if to confirm that she was, in fact, still there. "Damn it!" She sighed.

"Who are you?" Jacen asked, utterly baffled. This night was getting stranger and stranger.

"I," she began imperiously, "Am Githany. Dark La-" she seemed to catch herself, "_Former_ Dark Lady of the Sith. And now," she added bitterly, "The Ghost of Life Day Past." The look on her face was that of somebody very, very unhappy with where life had taken her.

"So..." Jacen started, "They're sending a Sith to redeem a Sith? That's..."

"Stupid," she cut him off, "I know, believe me. But it's not just for you. They'll let me have peace if I do the ghost gig for a while. I'm actually rather good at it. You ever heard of Darth Sapien?"

"No."

That's right!" She paused for a moment, looking proud, "And you never will either. But that's not important right now. We've got places to go."

"What do yo-whoa!" Before Jacen could finish, Githany snapped her fingers and the room began to spin faster and faster, the scenery of Jacen's bedroom melting tinto detail-less black.

A flash of intense light erupted between the two, and Jacen felt heat wash over him. He gritted his teeth, and, not for the first time, was grateful for all the torture Vergere had put him through.

Then, as quickly as it started, the spinning and the light stopped, and Jacen felt the wind get knocked out of him as he fell to the ground.

He lifted his head to take in their surroundings. They were no longer in his apartment, but rather a clearing in the middle of forest. It was dark, and Jacen could hear the insects and nocturnal animals making their nighttime rounds.

Githany was already up, brushing dirt from her not-quite-solid form. Jacen pasued to consider that for a moment, and quickly decided that it, like everything else tonight, just didn't have to make sense.

"Hmm," Githany looked thoughtful for a moment, "We're a little off. Never have been very good at the whole translocation thing. Oh well, looks like we're hoofin' it." With that, she began walking through the foliage. Literally, _through_ the foliage. Being a ghost had it's advantages, it seemed.

Jacen, on the other hand, was forced to clear branches and bushes out of his path, making keeping up with the dead Sith a trying task.

"So," he began, breaking the silence after a few minutes of hiking, "When were you a Sith?"

"About a thousand years before you were born." she said simply.

"How'd you die?"

"Painfully." She didn't elaborate, and Jacen got the feeling she did not enjoy talking about it. As if he cared.

"And...?"

She spun around, walking right up to him, one leather-clad finger poking him hard in the chest. "Imagine having your soul ripped from your body." Poke. "Imagine having everything you are squeezed until your consciousness becomes nothing but pain." Poke, poke. "Imagine spending centuries, knowing nothing but suffocation and blindness." Poke, poke, _poke_. "It's not a pleasant thing to remember, so _stop asking about it!_" She turned on her heel and stalked off through the forest.

Jacen got the vague feeling he'd done something stupid, but buried it. It wasn't his fault she was so touchy.

So...the ancient Sith," he said, trying to find another topic of conversation, "What was that lik-"

He was cut short by what I can only describe as a "bitch-slap of titanic proportions." The look in his guide's eyes spoke of untold misery if he did not shut the hell up.

"...Never mind."

The ex-Dark Lady was apparently satisfied with this, and they resumed walking in silence.

Roughly half an hour later, they arrived at the edge of the forest. It was then that Jacen recognized where they were.

"Hey, I know this place. This is the old academy on Yavin IV."

"Observant." Githany deadpanned, "What we need is inside, let's go."

They entered the old temple, and Jacen heard the sounds of a lightsaber. They made their way to a certain chamber, and Jacen was filled with a sense of deja vu.

It was _him_ The young him, who couldn't have been more than four years old. He was swinging a lightsabe at a group of flying creatures. _'Sith battle hydras,'_ he thought to himself. He remembered now. The ancient Sith Lord Exar Kun and sent the beasts to attack Uncle Luke's incapacitated body. With help from his Uncle's spirit, Jacen had been able to defend him.

"Aw, isn't that sweet?" Githany said dryly.

"Oh hell, it's _you._"

Jacen and his ghostly guide turned to see the pale form of Exar Kun standing there, looking supremely pissed-off.

All of a sudden, Githany's whole demeanor changed, "Exar, why _hello_," she said with a voice that was just dripping sweetness, "Who let you out?"

"Githany," the old Dark Lord spoke through gritted teeth, "It's a...'pleasure' to see you again."

"Wait, wait," Jacen interrupted, "You two know each other?"

"You might say that," Githany siad, a massive smile plastered on her face, "Exar and I met shortly after those of us on Ruusan were released,"

"Bloody gloating wench," Kun whispered under his breath.

"Aw, what's the matter, Exar, did your little boyfriend never call you back?" She asked, her voiced laced with cheer.

The Sith Lord became red with anger, "Don't talk to me about my own apprentice you twice-damned trollop!"

"Loser."

"Twit!"

"Moron!"

"Fatty!"

"Why you son of a-"

Now, Jacen never claimed to be the most intelligent person around. For Force's sake, he was a member of the _Skywalker_ family. It was only thanks to the grace of any deities out there that the Solo half of his blood had saved him from becoming a vegetable. But even Jacen knew that it was a bad idea to get between two angry Sith Lords, dead or not. In one of his smarter moments, he quickly stepped back, lest he be vaporized by the power of their hatred alone.

Fortunately, they were prevented from (re)killing each other by yet another flash of light. The space between them seemed to to twist in on itself, and when it reverted to normal, there was a man occupying it.

He was tall, dark-skinned, with a bald head and a graying beard. He wore old-fashioned Jedi robes.

"What's all the damned racket about? I swear, what with Sith Lords and time travel, can't get a moment's peace..." the old, apparently also dead Jedi let the statement fall away, looking generally annoyed.

Githany, it seemed, shared the sentiment, glaring at the old man with a look of irritation. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm working?"

"I was getting to that, If you'd let me finish! Blasted young people. Anyhow, Githany, you're late. In the time you've all been bickering, you've used up all your time, and Wonder Boy here-" He paused to whack Jacen on the head, ignoring his indignant cry, "-hasn't learned a damn thing!"

Githany pouted, placing her hands on her hips. "We'll it's not my fault, Bindo. We were interrupted by Mr. Failure," she protested, pointing a finger at the still glowering Kun.

"Well, whatever the reason, the powers-that-be have decided to continue, your replacement should be here momentarily," He turned to Kun, "And as for you..." He grabbed the deceased Lord by the arm and the two vanished with a brilliant flash, the latter giving off a girlish scream.

"Well," said Jacen, who had up until then stayed wisely silent, "That was weird."

"Tell me about," Githany said tiredly, "Man, I need a drink..."

**A/N: Meh, I hateses this chapter. Look forward to the next one some time in 2009.**


	3. A Beating From A Furry Old Guy

**A/N: Presenting Chapter 3! Shout out to reviewer ****buffalo1fromSalem for something that happens in this chapter!**

**I still disclaim.**

So, the two waited.

After a moment of tedious boredom, they relocated to Uncle Luke's room, and Githany finally got her drink. Who would have guessed that Luke kept a bottle of ancient Tarisian Ale under his bed? Oh, well, the dim Jedi master probably wouldn't even give it a thought...

**Skywalker Home, Coruscant, 40 ABY**

Luke Skywalker, Jedi Grand Master, puased in his making of Life Day decorations as a startling revelation passed over him, one of planet-shattering magnitude. He had been betrayed!

"...Those thieving apprentices stole my ale!"

Amidst this shocking realization, the senior Jedi was given curious looks from his wife and son.

Naturally, he didn't notice.

**Jedi Praxeum, Yavin 4, 11 ABY**

Jacen was shaken from his musings by the now-familiar flash of white light in the center of the room.

As the flash subsided, there was a third figure in the room. A tall, imperious-looking Bothan in purble robes. After a closer look, Jacen found he recognized him, as the martyred Chief of the New Republic, Borsk Fey'lya.

"Wait a minute! Fey'lya? What are you doing here? And how are you a Force Ghost?"

Githany leaned over and whispered, "He's a politician. Most of them wind up having to work off their debt to society as ghost guides. More of them than Sith, actually... What does that say to you?"

"I'm right here, you know," Fey'lya spoke up, "And death hasn't diminished my ability to hear."

"Yeah, yeah," Githany said with disinterest, "Well trust me, after this job, you might regret the whole, 'noble sacrifice' thing." And with that, the ex-Sith flashed away, laughing loudly.

"Stupid woman..."Fey'lya muttered, "All, right, well, we don't have much time, so let's get going. I am the Ghost of Life Day Present, here to make you see the error of your ways."

"Ok, but wh--not again!" With a snap of the Bothan's fingers, they were off.

The pair re-materialized in the middle of a hallway, which Jacen recognized as being in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where Luke Skywalker was yelling at an aged Calamarian, Jedi Master Cilghal.

"...And I know you were all just apprentices, but it's a pretty heinous thing to steal from a comatose man!"

The Calamarian sighed, "Master Skywalker, for the last time, I did not steal any of your ale. I didn't even know about it until two minutes ago."

Luke pointed at her triumphantly, "A-ha! I got here _five_ minutes ago!"

"I know. You spent the first three minutes asking me if I was coming to your Life Day celebration tomorrow. You told me to bring cake, remember?" At this, Jacen rolled his eyes.

Luke smiled sheepishly, "Oh, yeah. Very well, then, good night, Cilghal!" Thus, the Grand Master stalked down the hallway, shouting out, "Kam! Tionne! Time to answer for your most vile of deeds!"

"Oops," Fey'lya said, "Wrong place..." Another snap, and space made another twist, and suddenly they were in another set of rooms in the temple, which Jacen recognized as belonging to his twin sister Jaina.

Said twin was currently getting ready for bed, placing each of her admirers in baskets up against the wall, scratching behind their ears, and patting them on the head. Kyp Durron whined pathetically, so Jaina scooped him and let him curl up next to her in the bed, earning scornful glares from Zekk and Jag Fel.

"Ok," Jacen said, "I'm confused. What does this have to do with saving my soul? And how can my sister "scoop up" a two-hundred pound man?"

"It's simple. See, it was something you did, while on the darkside, that has made your sister a lonely thirty-year-old who goes home every night to a house filled with dim-witted admirers," Fey'lya said condescendingly, "Why, it's your fault she's all alone. If not for your actions, she'd be happily married with a nice devoted, loving man from Eres V. And just look at her hobbies."

He pointed to Jaina, who had now taken a flimsiplast picture of Jacen, and burned out his face with a fusion torch. Fey'lya nodded sagely.

"See, she knows it's you that's the cause of her misery. She's got a whole box of things like that. Voodoo dolls with all the pins in a particularly unpleasant area, edited holos of you with your head getting sliced off, datapads filled with nothing but the phrase "Die, Jacen, die," and the like."

"That's ri--Hey, wait, she's got voodoo dolls of me?"

"Uh-huh."

"I was wondering why she was always asking me for peices of my hair and clothing..."

Fey'lya stared at him for a moment at this statement, and shook his head sadly. "Anyway," he said, "We've got to be going,"

"Wait, can't we just wa-aaaaah!" Time and space distorted yet again, and Jacen and Fey'lya were in a well-decorated, but lonely looking parlor, the lights darkened, and a lit fireplace along the north wall. In an old, comfortable looking armchair sat Gilad Pellaeon, former commander of the Alliance military who had resigned after Jacen's ascent, looking depressed.

Fey'lya looked insanely, gleefully vindictive, and Jacen took a step back as he began talking, "Oh yes, Gilad Pellaeon. Not so smug now, are you? "Oh look at me, I can defend _my_ territory!" Well, not any more! Damn stupid--"

"The lesson?" Jacen interjected, sensing this could go on for a while.

"Oh," Fey'lya collected himself for a moment, "Yes, well, you see, his job was the only thing he really had to bring him joy. Now, you've forced him to resign on principle, thus confining him to a sad, lonesome Life Day, all by himself." Jacen thought he also heard _'serves you right, bastard,'_ but chose not comment, fearing another rant. "So," Fey'lya continued, "That's yet another person your actions have affected in the negative. Even if in this case it _is_ richly deserved."

Fey'lya snapped his fingers once more, and they were out of there.

As Jacen blinked to regain his vision, he immediately knew where they were. It was the asteroid Home. More specifically, the workshop, where it's resident, the Dark Lady Lumiya, performed maintainence on her cyborg body. Jacen wasn't sure, but he thought he could see brightly wrappred packages shoved into a partly-closed cabinet.

As his mentor was adjusting something in her forearm, she paused and gave a melancholy sigh, then returned to her task.

"Ok, what does this have to do with redeeming me?" For his question, has was rewarded with a harsh smack to the back of the head.

"It has everything to do with it! Leaving your own teacher alone on Life Day! Look at her, the poor woman is miserable!" He smacked the younger man one more time for good measure, "Damn disrespectful young people! Why when I was your age we had consideration for our teachers, we were grateful for their tutelage!" With that, he hit Jacen a third time, just to make sure it sunk in.

And then, the old Bothan snapped his fingers. Again.

Jacen opened his mouth to say something, but whatever he may have said was lost amid another scream as the scenery swirled and shifted around them, this time rapidly.

Swish. In the Council chamber, where Uncle Luke had gethered several other Jedi.

"And so I've narrowd down the ale thief to someone in this room!"

Swish. In Jaina's room, where his sister had now taken up a guitar and was singing a song she had obviously written herself.

"Oh, yes he's a twit,

And his face looks like sh-"

Swish. Pelleaon's den. Fey'lya pointed and laughed.

Swish. Council room. Dorsk 83 was protesting.

"But Master Skywalker, I wasn't even born when it happened!"

"Ha! Classic guilty behavior!"

Swish. Lumiya.

"For shame!" Cried Fey'lya, with a smack.

Mercifully, they reverted to Jacen's apartment after that, where he fell to his knees and became violently sick all over the bedroom floor.

"I thought you Jedi were supposed to have strong stomachs," Fey'lya noted as he eyed the mess.

"Well," Jacen groaned from the fetal position, "What do you expect after that little ride?"

"Pft. 'Mighty Sith Lord' my furry ass."

Jacen stood, shaky, beofre sitting on the bed. "I didn't need to hear that phrase, thanks."

Fey'lya glared, "Oh my, we forgot to go to-"

"No!" Jacen begged, eyes wide with fear and motion sickness.

"Hehe, just kidding." Jacen scowled at him like he'd never scowled in his life. The deceased Bothan only seemed amused by it. "So what has this experience taught you so far, Young Solo?"

"Well," Jacen thought for a moment, "I've learned that traveling instantly through space and time is bound to make one physically ill. I've learned that Bothans are kriffing vindictive. And I've learned that, for some reason, my actions have ridiculously large ramifications when it comes to other people's celebration of a holiday that really only has meaning for the inhabitants of one single planet in the galaxy. Oh, and my sister's a suprisingly good singer." He finished, and smiled, as if proud for remembering it all.

Fey'lya rubbed his eyes in frustration, "Alright, not _quite_ what we had been hoping for, a tad disappointing, but I'll take it. With any luck, Life Day Future will be more successful. Or...not. And speaking of which..."

The room was filled with light for a third time...

**A/N: So there it was, undoubtedly the weakest chapter yet. Although the part with Luke's thirty-years-late revelation and subsequent overreaction was fun to write. Stay tuned for Chapter Four, unless of course I lose my inspiration for this and neglect it for a year again.**


	4. Special Guest Star

**A/N: I disclaim all ownership of Star Wars, the LotF books, the Legacy comics, and all characters within such. In other words, I OWN NOTHING! Also, this chapter is terrible. I'd turn back now if I were you.**

Thirty seconds after the Glow of Doom(TM) filled Jacen's bedroom, he and his deceased escort through the screaming netherworlds, which sounds so much cooler than "Cosmic Tour Guide," were still standing there, alone. After another minute, Jacen spoke up curiously.

"Uh, not to question how these things work, but shouldn't the other guy be here by now?"

Fey'lya gave a deep sigh. "Oh, he'll be here. In about five seconds, as a matter of fact. You might want to step away from the window, he's not too good at this." Jacen opened his mouth to ask why he'd need to set p away from the window, and got his answer about one second later as the sound of a crash filled the room, and he suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground, with something very heavy on top of him.

The new arrival quickly got off the young Sith, who hoped he didn't have a concussion from all the hits he'd been taking tonight. The stranger was busy dusting off his robes and turning around to face Jacen. The man was fairly young, maybe thirty-five years old, with reddish-blond hair and the beginnings of a beard. What really shocked Jacen was that he recognized him.

The holos he's seen had been of an older man, but looking into that face, it was unmistakably Obi-Wan Kenobi.

After a few moments of gaping on the part of Jacen, the ghost turned to Fey'lya.

"Is he OK?" Fey'lya snorted.

"No. But if you mean "Is this normal?" then yes. He's just surprised to see you."

"I...wha...you..."

Kenobi rolled his transparent eyes. "Yes, yes, out with it. C'mon, use your words like a big boy." Fey'lya chuckled, ignoring the pointed glare that Jacen sent his way. Finally, the Sith was able to collect himself enough to ask a coherent question.

"Why are _you_ here? And why do you look so weird?"

"What?" Kenobi asked, "Did you really think I'd choose to look old and wrinkly? Kark that! As for why I'm here, well..." He shifted uncomfortably, looking at the wall, "I may have... done something bad."

Jacen raised his eyebrow. "Something bad?" Fey'lya started chuckling.

"That's right, Kenobi. And you ought to be very ashamed of yourself."

Obi-Wan growled at the Bothan. "Oh, up yours, you windbag." His scowl deepened as the other ghost began laughing even harder. "It's not funny, Bothan!"

"Yes," Fey'lya persisted, "Yes it is." He straightened, "Anyway, Kenobi, this one's your problem now. I'd wish you good luck, but this is _him_ we're talking about, so..." The dead Bothan shrugged, before snapping his fingers and departing. Kenobi growled at the space he'd previously occupied before turning to his living charge,

"So, I guess we should get started. I'm the Ghost of Life Day Future. I'm here to explain to you the consequences of persisting in this folly." Jacen opened his mouth to question Obi-Wan on what he of all people could have done to get stuck with a post-mortem job like this, but thought better of it, remembering how sensitive and, more importantly, downright scary Githany had gotten after his questioning. For once, he decided discretion was the better part of valor, and kept his mouth shut. "We'd best be getting off, then. I warn you, I'm not very good at this." And so, Kenobi made a complicated looking gesture with his hands, and the now achingly familiar flash of light engulfed the two, sending them into a dizzying spin.

When they came out of it, they both slammed hard into the floor. After a few seconds of checking themselves over for injuries, Jacen and his guide looked around.

Jacen recognized the area. It was a courtyard on Coruscant. He did not, however, recognize the Jedi, currently engaged in battle with a man that was clearly deep in the thrall of the Dark Side. He was a Nagai, heavily tattooed, and he seemed to relish the chance to remove limbs with impunity. Obi-Wan smacked himself in the forehead.

"Oh, hell, too far! We gotta go before we screw things up." Another particularly agonizing flash caused the carnage around them to disappear in an instant. Once Jacen got his bearings, he noticed a corpse in the middle of the courtyard. The hole in his chest had clearly been made by a lightsaber. Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "You see, don't you? See where all your dark side power got you?"

Jacen slowly approached the body, gazing into the dead man's face.

"...Who the hell is this?"

"What? What do you...?" Obi-Wan ran over, getting a good look at the body. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He whined. "This isn't right." He looked into the say, fist raised. "This is not funny! I'm serious, this is the last time I'm doing this!" Before Jacen could work up the futile protest, Kenobi had once again flashed them to another point in time.

This time, if the triumphant noises Kenobi made were any indication, it had worked. And Jacen could quickly see why.

There, a smoking hole in his chest, eyes forever closed, was... him. Jacen stared in shock for a moment at his own corpse, taking in the sight. But he realized he wasn't alone.

Jaina Solo looked down at the body of her brother, her lightsaber extinguished and hanging loosely in her grip. Her eyes were cold, staring at the remains of her brother with no emotion whatsoever. It was like that for a while, before she turned and, without looking back, left, leaving the body behind.

Jacen stood there for a moment, unable to process what he was seeing. Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, but to little effect.

The moment of contemplation was broken, though, when a deafening blast shook the courtyard, and the far wall exploded with a cry of "Freeze, scumbag!" As the dust cleared, three figures strolled through the gaping hole in the wall, and Jacen felt himself take a step back from a "face" he would recognize anywhere.

After all, even when you knew he couldn't see you, only an idiot wouldn't be afraid of Boba Fett.

Fett and his companions, a Kiffar female and a figure wrapped entirely in Mandalorian Assault Armor, marched into the room, blasters raised, only to lower them in confusion at the sight of the room's sole inhabitant, the cooling corpse.

The Kiffar strolled over to the body, and after a quick look at the face accompanied by a rather loud "Oh damn it!" she turned to Fett. "Well, just our luck, he's already dead."

The smaller Mandalorian ripped off the helmet, revealing a young woman. "Tell me you're kidding?" She asked incredulously. When the older woman shook her head, the girl scowled and said some very unladylike things.

Fett, for his part, just stood there. Finally, after a minute or two, he spoke up.

"I'm...I'm not sure what to do. This has never happened before. It's a little embarrassing." The Kiffar put an arm around him.

"Don't sweat it," she said cheerily, "dead is dead. Now c'mon, I've been on ice for way too long. Let's get some food." That seemed to brighten Fett up a bit, although he was still wearing his helmet so it was difficult to tell. After stopping to give the corpse a few vicious kicks, at which the Kiffar declared, "It's going to be a good day!" the trio departed the same way they entered, namely, by blasting another hole in the wall.

All was quiet for a moment.

"What..." Jacen began slowly, "did we just see?"

Obi-Wan observed the twin holes in the wall before answering. "I'm not really sure. Have you learned anything yet?"

"Not a damn thing."

"I thought not," Obi-Wan sighed, "Oh well. Time's up anyway. We'd better go." He raised his hand, looked at it, and then looked into the sky. "A little help here would be nice," he said.

That, it seemed, was enough, as a far less frantic spinning sensation overtook them, depositing the two lightly into bedroom once again.

"Well Jacen, it's been educational." Obi-Wan paused, "For me, at least. See you later." The ghost waved a little before being sucked back out the window, leaving Jacen blissfully alone once again.

"I... have never been more confused than I am right now."

**A/N: That be all. Next up: The finale.**


End file.
